His Brother's Woman
by MaxRide05
Summary: Edmund hated being second best. :: Luna/Peter. Onesided Edmund/Luna.


**Disclaimer: I do not own a thing.**

**His Brother's Woman**

Edmund hated being second-best. He always had before coming to Narnia, and, of course, immediately after his arrival. He thought that feeling had abated with the White Witch's death and his concomitant absolution. Apparently not.

Edmund had a certain pale-eyed magic wielder to thank for that. A blonde young woman that went by the name of Luna Lovegood. She was something of an anomaly at court (as Edmund came to think of Cair Paravel). She said she was from another world.

He believed her. From the moment he saw her Edmund had thought that very thing - that she was from another world.

Maybe even _his_—well, his and his siblings'. But he didn't know for sure, he didn't even know how Luna came to be in this one, in Narnia. Lucy might know; they'd become quite close. By Jove, it was as if Luna and Lucy were sisters, not Lucy and Susan.

At first Edmund had been averse to Luna Lovegood's presence. _A witch_, he'd thought, _at court?_ Not in his lifetime, not even after if he had his way.

But then something happened. No one died. No one was poisoned. No one was turned to stone - or some other (Luna-esque?) form of torture. In time Edmund came to realise how foolish that thought was. That _Luna_ and _torture_ went together—as his father would have said, _once upon a time_—like the Jerries and Uncle Sam.

Her presence became less of a burden, more of a... Edmund wasn't precisely sure what her presence was now. But whatever it was he liked it. Liked her. He knew he wasn't the only one. While they'd never reached the closeness that Lucy had with their perpetually genial guest, Susan was quite friendly towards Luna. And vice versa, of course.

There wasn't a single person Luna wasn't friendly towards. Whether they liked her or not she had a smile for everyone. (She'd certainly smiled at Edmund enough when he hadn't trusted her.)

That was why it had been so hard for Edmund to notice a change in Luna's relationship with Peter.

Edmund didn't know—and how he hated those words, hated the _not knowing_—how or when it had started.

All he did know was that, some months since Luna's arrival, the day had started out as any other. He hadn't felt like his world was going to turn on its head at any moment.

He had been talking with Peter about some thing or another and they passed Luna in a corridor. Greetings, smiles and nods were exchanged. No curtsies or "Your Majesty"s, or greetings of "King so-and-so," they were too formal and stuffy even for law-abiding Peter. Then they continued on their separate ways.

Edmund, as he often did after they passed each other, glanced back at Luna as she walked away.

When he faced forward he was shocked to find that his brother was doing the same thing he'd just done. Peter had turned to watch Luna as she walked away, too. And what was worse when Edmund looked at Luna again, she had turned to look behind her. To look back at Peter. She'd never done that with Edmund.

He felt strange, almost betrayed. And jealous, most assuredly jealous. That feeling intensified when Luna, catching Peter's eye, smiled. Or rather, the smile that was already on her face widened. The same thing happened with Peter - the smile that had been on his face since greeting Luna suddenly seemed like a fixed feature of his. It was still there when he faced forwards, picking up the conversation where it had left off. It was like nothing had happened, like nothing was amiss. Like all was right with the world.

But something had happened. Something had changed; for all that Edmund's eyes sought Luna out whenever she was near, he hadn't known that it had until that day. But as soon as he was aware of it, it took ahold of him and wouldn't let go. The atmosphere between Peter and Luna took on a new meaning, a new dimension in Edmund's eyes, and he couldn't _not_ see it. No matter how hard he tried, and he _had_ tried - Aslan's Mane, Edmund had tried.

Had he imagined it or were Luna's eyes brighter when she talked to Peter after dinner, had her smile truly taken on an affectionate nature? Had Peter's hand really lingered on her shoulder when they passed each other in the library?

Or was Edmund simply looking at things the wrong way? Was he seeing something that wasn't there because of his jealousy? Because Peter watched Luna walking away from him, too (and Luna had looked back at him)?

Then came a time, days later, when Edmund could deny it no longer. They had feelings for one another.

It was too glaringly obvious for Edmund to ignore, to brush off as something else, as Luna's genial nature, as Peter's politeness. Edmund felt like a vine had snaked and looped its way around his stomach, his lungs, his heart and it squeezed those organs each and every time he saw one take a lingering glance at the other when they were talking with someone else. Every time he saw them exchange smiles and nods.

The atmosphere of seclusion between them, that feeling that they were never far from the other's mind, was present every time they were in a room together and locked eyes. Even if there were other people there, say an entire hall of other people, _even then_ nothing was dampened. Nothing changed. Edmund still saw every little detail, he still felt that flash of pain and jealousy.

As he'd seen it before anyone else, it took Edmund a while to realise that once more something in their interactions had shifted. It was Lucy's aborted squeal of delight that did it. For it was then, in the gardens watching the sunset with his siblings and their guest, that Edmund realised Luna and Peter were making their feelings known. Not only to each other but to others.

No one seeing them could doubt their affection for one another.

It was there in the shared looks that said they were the only other person in the world—or Worlds—to the other. That the other person was all they saw and all they ever wanted to see.

It was there in the way their faces lit up upon seeing one another after some time away, in the way their names sounded coming from the other person's lips.

It was there in the lingering touches between them, and later—despite the possible disapproval of the council—in the kisses they shared. Those kisses were chaste, but kings cannot be seen to be too familiar towards a woman who wasn't their consort or their betrothed. It didn't matter whether that woman was commoner or royalty, Narnian or foreigner. It just wasn't done. Their councillors, their advisors—as unconventional a bunch as any Edmund had ever heard of from his school days—dissuade such familiarity between the monarchs and possible suitors.

Peter knew that. Edmund thought that his brother seemed to be coming close to flouting that rule-disguised-as-advice as of late. It gave Edmund more than a few moments pause. _Did Peter intend to marry Luna? _The very thought made him feel ill, rather faint with a violent churning sensation in his stomach. He couldn't catch his breath.

The thought—and ill feeling—didn't leave him when days turned into weeks which threatened to turn into months.

Then he stumbled upon a scene he'd never forget. A scene that made him certain his brother was flouting that rule. Luna and Peter were in a corridor talking to each other softly and standing very close. Closer than protocol—or etiquette, or whatever one would call it—allowed. Then, without preamble, Peter pressed his mouth to Luna's. Once. Twice. Those kisses had been lingering ones. Edmund's breath stuttered in his chest. He felt like passion had been just beneath the surface of those kisses, like it was just waiting to come forth...

Then Peter, after darting furtive glances up and down the corridor, took hold of Luna's waist and pulled her to an alcove. Luna gasped, "Peter—" Whatever else she would have said was lost when his older brother leaned forward and captured her lips with his. It soon became very clear that that kiss wouldn't go the way of the others, that that kiss was to be far from chaste.

Edmund was proved right seconds later. It was a hungry kiss, the result of the charged atmosphere between them erupting like Vesuvius. It was the sort of kiss Edmund had imagined himself having with Luna more times than he cared to count, more times than he cared to remember. Because thinking back on those vivid imaginings of his had filled him with yearning and shame in equal measure. But now they only shamed him.

Because it was then that Edmund knew, with absolute certainty, that his brother would be damned if another month - _nay_, another _week_ passed before Luna was his. His to have and to hold. To love and to cherish.

Till death parted them. _Let no man put asunder_, and all that.

And that was when Edmund knew that Luna would never be his. That she truly was his brother's woman, and Peter - not Edmund, but _Peter_ was to be her man.

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